


Chasing The Sun

by Ladytalon



Category: Deus Ex (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fake Marriage, Falling In Love, Friends With Benefits, Genital Piercing, Mission Fic, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Teasing, juggernaut collective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:20:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22839934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladytalon/pseuds/Ladytalon
Summary: Faridah is sent to Golem City for a mission with her Janus-appointed ‘husband’...Garvin Quinn.
Relationships: Faridah Malik/Garvin Quinn
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	Chasing The Sun

**Author's Note:**

> Set sometime after [Lucky Charm](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12757623%22%22)

“I’m not supposed to be here,” Faridah says despairingly as they trudge through the snow behind the others lining up to go through the Golem City checkpoint.

“None of us should be,” her companion replies, keeping an eye on the drones circling overhead. “It is lucky that we were able to change the papers in time. There are worse fates in this world, Faridah, than being married to me.”

She wants to lean over and jab him in the side, but it might make him laugh. Nobody consigned to the Útulek Complex has much use for laughter, especially when they’re just moving in, and it would definitely get them noticed. “I feel like I’m gonna throw up,” Faridah mutters.

Quinn shifts his grip on the bag he’s carrying and reaches out to lightly press his hand against her back. Something a husband would do, she supposes. “ _Jak se jmenuješ?_ ”

“ _Jmenuje se Káča Nováková_ ,” Faridah recites. “Won’t they think something’s wrong if I try to speak Czech to them?”

“Not at all, _solnysh- promin, **sluničko**._” This time Faridah _does_ smile at the near-slip, and the look he gives her in return shows that it’d been intentional. “They will be so charmed at a beautiful American speaking to them, they might forget to look closely,” Quinn tells her softly. “Come, we are almost there.”

Faridah crowds against Quinn as the distance between them and the police waiting at the checkpoint goes from five people to three to two…and then it’s their turn. “ _Připravte se papíry_ ,” the irritated-looking cop demands, holding a hand out.

“ _Tady jsou_ ,” Quinn says, reaching to take Faridah’s from her hand and passing them over. 

The officer pauses upon glancing at her papers, and lifts his head to look at Faridah. “American.”

Faridah dips her head slightly in acknowledgement. “ _Studuju Čeština, ale rozumím víc než mluvím_.”

“Huh.” The man’s eyes go from her to Quinn, and back again. “Go on, then.” He hands back the papers and waves them on with a look of disgust on his face that makes Faridah want to hit him. “What a waste. Fucking _clanks_ …”

Quinn shoves their papers into his jacket and jerks his head towards the gate. “Let’s go,” he murmurs, and doesn’t speak again until they’re past the checkpoint and are looking for their…accommodations. “You did well.”

“Did you see the way he looked at us?”

“He does not know you, he does not know me, and he never will. I do not care what he thinks,” Quinn says. “Neither should you, _zlato_.”

“I _know_ that,” Faridah snaps, yanking her arm out of his grasp. “Next thing you’re going to say is that I should be grateful I can pass as Natural.”

Quinn slants a look at her. “How nice it is, to have you here to tell me what I am going to say before I say it. Perhaps I should ask which model of CASIE you have so that I can upgrade to it.” He walks ahead to ask another Aug, leaning against a trash bin staring off into space, about the numbering system to the dirty-looking containers stacked haphazardly around the place. 

It looks like a slum because it _is_ one, and Faridah’s not proud of realizing how unhappy she is to be numbered amongst people she might usually pity from a safe distance. Having her augmentation hidden has benefited her since the Incident, but it can only prove a hindrance here. 

Thoughts of the Aug Incident bring back flashes of memory, just like always, and Faridah forces herself to think of something else - _anything_ else. “It’s not forever,” she murmurs, watching Quinn’s head tilt slightly as he hears her. “Which one’s ours?”

He walks back and reaches out to take her bag. “Top level, five past the stairs by the market on the left,” Quinn recites.

“I can take my own bag,” Faridah protests half-heartedly. 

He smiles and turns away, still carrying it. “I am sure that you can.”

Quinn leads her to their new home for the next few months – it’s a mess, as if someone had trashed the place before being dragged off. Faridah makes a mental note to never actually _ask_ about it in case she’s guessed correctly. She picks her way through the trash littering the floor, and sits down on the edge of the unmade bed. “You must think I’m some sort of…well, I don’t even know what you might call it.”

Glancing over at her, he continues sorting through the items the previous occupants of their ‘house’ had left behind. “I think you are many things, but you must remind me of what I think you are at this moment,” Quinn says. “Do you want any of this?”

“No, I can live without it.” Faridah looks around at the mess, not completely unaware of the fact that it seems like a metaphor for what’s happening inside her own head at the moment, and decides to do something about it. She hadn’t wanted to come here, but she’s here all the same – she can’t control the situation so it’s pointless to dwell on it. What she _can_ control are her immediate surroundings. “I’ll start over here, and we can meet in the middle – how’s that?”

“That would be perfect,” Quinn says with a slow smile that makes her stomach do a few flips.

Faridah loses herself in the work of straightening the place and cleaning it, appreciative of the fact that her new partner hasn’t simply foisted the job off onto her. Any fabric that can be removed for cleaning, is, and she stuffs a plastic crate full of laundry before finishing sweeping up. “I’m done in here for now,” Faridah announces, bracing the crate against her hip. “I don’t suppose Golem City has a laundromat.”

Quinn looks up at her, and she notices that he has dirt on his forehead from where he’s wiped his arm across it. “It does, and I will show you. Are you feeling better?”

“Are you _engineering_ me?”

“If it is engineering that you would like,” he says, his voice full of innuendo that makes Faridah roll her eyes. “Listen, _zlato_ \- at times I need to change my appearance, make it seem as if I am a Natural. If you would like, I can give you a scar similar to the one Alex has.” Quinn finishes wiping down the counters and tosses the rag into the wastebin before standing up. “What do you think?”

Faridah’s not sure what to think. “You’ve…filled your scar in? It’s hard to imagine you without it.”

“I am a very boring Natural,” Quinn assures her. “Maybe one day, you will see it. Do you want me to make you a prosthetic? I can make one now, so when we go outside everyone will see that you have a visible scar. Later tonight, I will make another that you can put on and remove easily.”

“Is it something I can think about, maybe sleep on it?”

Quinn lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “It is up to you, but if you go out now and do not have it while later you _do_ …it could be hard to explain.”

 _I’m not supposed to be here…_ Oh, what the hell. “Okay,” Faridah says impulsively. “Let’s do it.”

He smiles at her, and her stomach does another acrobatics routine. Faridah watches him dig through his pack before finally withdrawing a tiny pouch, which holds a few small brushes and vials of mysterious liquid. “I will mix this, but then I will need some of your makeup so that it will match your skin,” Quinn explains, and then produces a small block of something that looks like wax.

“What is that for?”

“If this goes on first and I build on top of it, you can peel it off later and use it again. I do not have enough latex to make your disguise every time you leave this place,” he says absently. “Wash your face and bring me your makeup.” When Faridah doesn’t move immediately, Quinn looks up and studies her before flicking his eyes skyward. “ _Please_.”

Faridah gives him a look, which he can interpret any way he likes, and does as requested. Quinn is bent over the counter working on her prosthetic when she returns. “I don’t wear makeup very often, but this is what I use sometimes,” Faridah says, pushing the tiny bottle over to him.

He mutters something in Russian and beckons her closer, exchanging the bottle of liquid foundation for a vial of clear…something. “Put that on the place you want the scar,” Quinn instructs as he opens the foundation to pour a small amount in the disposable cup he’s using. Faridah watches him mix it into the paste that was already inside the cup, and then he moves closer to begin spreading the flesh-colored substance onto her forehead where she’s wiped the clear fluid.

“It feels weird,” Faridah admits, trying to ignore how close he really is. The last time he was so near to her, they…no, this is _not_ the time to be thinking about it.

Quinn’s eyes flicker down to hers and back up to her forehead. “You will get used to it.”

She watches his face as he works, seeing the way his eyes change as the processors built into them magnify his work and interact with the HUD that only he can see. “How long have you had your augs? When did you get the first one installed?”

“Six weeks ago,” Quinn says promptly, without even the ghost of a smile to show that he’s joking. “How about you?”

“Too long.” Faridah thanks him when he finishes up and slides a hand mirror over so that she can see his handiwork. It looks as if it’s always been there, she thinks. “Wow. It’s like I just had it installed at a LIMB clinic.”

Quinn shows her how to remove and store the prosthetic, as well as how to reapply it without his help. “This one will hold up to a few uses, so I may not need to make another one yet. Do you want to go out?”

She can think of several things to do instead of going anywhere, but they might as well start being seen as the new married couple in Hovel #15. “Sure. We could go to the movies.”

“You might have to settle for visiting the market,” Quinn cautions, though she’s sure that he picked up on the sarcasm. 

They pull on their coats and Faridah looks away from the flash of skin revealed at his waist when he tugs his shirt down from where it’s ridden up, so she doesn’t see the expression on his face when he catches her trying not to stare. 

Quinn leads her through the maze of walkways as they head down to the lowest level, where most of the shops seem to be situated. They pass untold numbers of makeshift housing, most of them the same shipping containers that Faridah will be sharing with Quinn for the time being. She glances up at her partner to find him watching her. “Is something wrong?”

He shakes his head. “No.” Quinn’s arm slips around her and she can feel the warmth of his hand at her lower back. “ _Chceš ovoce, Zlatíčko?_ ”

Faridah frowns, hurriedly translating. “ _Ano, pro_ …um, how do you say ‘breakfast,’ again?”

Quinn eases closer. “ _Snídaně._ ”

“Yeah, for that.” They’re definitely close enough by now to share body heat even through their clothing, but they _are_ supposed to be married. Married couples stand this close all the time, she thinks. “Should we go?”

“Go?”

Well, at least she’s not the only one too horny for her own good. “Shopping, Bullseye. We’re supposed to be going shopping right now.”

He clears his throat and steps back slightly. “Yes.”

Faridah slips her hand into the crook of his elbow as he wings his arm at her in an excess of gallantry. “We’re lucky we didn’t get assigned to one of the tiers way the hell up there,” she says, then realizes how stupid that sounds. “I guess you arranged it, though, so maybe luck doesn’t have a lot to do with it.”

“I did not do it, but the one who did would not want us to be that high,” Quinn says. “No doubt Alex said that I am afraid of heights.”

“Are you?”

Quinn snorts out a laugh and lifts his other hand to cover her fingers. “Heights, I have no problem with. Flying is another matter entirely.”

“How could it be different?” Faridah wonders.

He assures her that there’s all the difference in the world, and they browse the offerings of the nearest shop while the attendant watches them closely. Quinn picks out a few apples and a small bag of grapes, while Faridah chooses oranges and the best looking bananas available…which isn’t saying much. Everything there looks as though it’s been picked over at least twice. They pay the attendant, who still seems to think they’re going to steal something, and Quinn takes the produce back to their apartment (she’s going to be charitable and call it an apartment) while Faridah waits outside what seems to be a children’s school.

Her partner returns with the plastic crate of laundry as she’s gazing at her reflection in the dirty glass windows. “Not enough children are here,” Quinn says, thinking that she’s looking in at the students. “There should be many more.”

“Oh, I wasn’t…what d’you mean, there should be more?”

He jerks his chin towards the walkway, and she falls in step with him. “Golem City is crowded – too crowded. When there are so many people, babies should be there too. We are here to prepare for the next agent, but also to see why most of the pregnancies terminate early.”

Faridah looks up at him sharply. “When you say _most_ -”

“Eighty percent,” Quinn murmurs. “And when a mother carries to term, she has to worry about the fifty percent infant mortality rate…if she can survive the birth.”

“That’s… that’s monstrous,” Faridah says, feeling sick. “Is it some sort of, uh, vaccination? Those are mandatory here, right?”

He shrugs, motioning towards another barrel-lined walkway that leads to what seems to be their neighborhood laundromat. “They are, but it is not clear that is where the problem lies. We will need to test several samples. It could even be a combination of sources.”

Faridah’s not too wild about the possibility that she could be affected by the whatever-it-is. “So, are _we_ at risk?”

Quinn opens the door, holding it for her, and they walk inside. “I do not know. If I had known that it could be a possibility, I would have requested a different partner. Most of the data collected was not shared with me until two days ago…but I do not believe that our friend would have sent us in if they thought it was a danger.”

That’s something, at least.

They separate the laundry and shove it inside two adjoining washers that must have been come from a time machine. Quinn laughs when she has a problem figuring out how to start them, and teases her into momentarily forgetting her unease over their secondary assignment. He coaxes her into telling him more about her family, and Faridah gets him to cough up some details concerning his own upbringing. None of those details, of course, include mentioning his real name. It’s the first real date she’s been on in years.

Faridah’s watching him fold the blankets when she decides to continue their physical relationship. If Quinn’s willing, of course. “What are you thinking, _sluničko_?” he asks suddenly without looking up, which first startles her and then makes her laugh. Of course he would have noticed all the staring she’s been doing.

“I’m thinking about that night I was watching you mess with a gun.”

Quinn’s lips curve into a slight smile, and his head tilts. “I like to think about that, as well.”

There are many subtle ways she could hint at this, but she might as well just go for it. “Wanna do it again, Bullseye?”

He looks up at her with answering warmth in his eyes. “I would like that _very_ much.”

They finish folding their laundry together and it becomes some of the oddest foreplay she’s ever had, but Faridah’s not complaining because every time their hands brush together she feels the tingles all the way down her spine. She sneaks a look at him to find him watching her, and they both smile. Faridah reaches up to press her finger along the distorted line of his scar where he might have had a dimple before being augmented. “Does it hurt when your expression pulls it out of alignment?”

Quinn shakes his head, no. “It used to, but not now.” He confirms the loss of his dimples and Faridah sighs over never getting to see them, which makes his smile deepen. “Yours are much better than mine ever were.”

She frowns in confusion, which clears as Quinn slips an arm around her and places one of his big hands directly upon her- “You’re the worst,” she scolds. Faridah slides her hands up his chest and moves closer until the laundromat’s door opens to admit a tired-looking woman who glares at them and mutters beneath her breath. Quinn gives Faridah’s backside a friendly pat before releasing her.

They take their clean, folded laundry back to their temporary home…and it’s a miracle that the basket makes it back without being upended in the mud, because neither of them are feeling patient right now. Quinn sends her to take care of the windows while he barricades the door, and Faridah finds him pulling a blanket over the battered mattress when she turns around. “Come here,” he suggests. “It is much better with two of us.”

“What, the sex?” Faridah grins.

“That too. Come and help me now, and I will help you come very soon,” Quinn says with a playful wink.

Faridah pulls off her boots and sets them aside, walking over to the other side of the bed. She tucks the blanket around the mattress at the corners, smiling at Quinn when their eyes meet. Her body is buzzing with desire as they share the task of spreading a few more blankets on the bed, and she wets her lips with her tongue upon glancing over to see the tented front of Quinn’s pants. “That for me, Bullseye?”

His answering grin is as unapologetic as it is sexy. “If you want it, it is yours.”

Oh, she wants it.

Faridah drops her side of the blanket and walks over to him, molding her body to his and stretching up while his arms come around her. She can feel everything, from the heavy press of his cock against her abdomen to the quickened slam of his heart beneath his chest. The world seems to grow still at the moment they both pause, lips parting slightly in anticipation of a kiss that drives her even closer to him when their mouths finally connect. She’s missed this, the electric feeling of Quinn’s tongue flicking against hers and the way his big hands roam over her body, confident that he’ll bring her the pleasure she knows he can give her.

She’s spent far too many nights reliving their night together with her hand below her blankets; now she’ll get the real thing, hopefully for as long as they’re here in Golem City. Faridah’s first instinct is to push him down onto the bed and ride him until they both come…but there’ll be time enough for that later. _Thank God_.

They kiss slowly, their mutual desire building until the air seems thick with it. “It has been too long since that night,” Quinn whispers to her as their mouths briefly separate, because breathing is still a necessity even for Augs. “I think of you often.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh, yes.” He tilts his hips forward to rub against her, sighing when she reaches between them to find the piercing hidden underneath the fabric. Quinn groans softly. “I like that so _much_.” One of the things _she_ likes best, Faridah thinks as she draws him onto the bed with her, is how big he is. Quinn goes through a lot of trouble to conceal his size by slouching or whatever spy sleight-of-hand he’s learned over the years, but she revels in it in a way that’s almost primal. “We do not have much privacy here,” he murmurs, accent thickened by desire for her.

She loves that, too.

“I guess we both have to be quiet, then,” Faridah challenges him, reaching up to run her finger along the curve of his augmentation scar. “Maybe we can play Cops and Augs. What d’you say, Bullseye? Are you gonna come quietly?”

The humor helps ease the intense atmosphere into something a little more playful. He grins at the double entendre and settles on top of her, lowering his hips into the cradle of hers. “Maybe you really will be the cop, because I will make you squeal like pig.” Another mark of his excitement is that he’ll sometimes forget his indefinite articles, and it’s adorable. Faridah can feel him growing even harder against her and she lifts her legs to wrap around him.

“One of these days, we’ll have to play that for real. I could get a uniform.” She watches his face change as he thinks about it.

“Not if I get one for me first,” Quinn warns her. “We could have turns.”

“You, in a uniform? Yes _please_ ,” Faridah tells him, running her hands up the strong arms braced on either side of her. “What’s your name, when you’re in that uniform? Vasily?”

He laughs. “You guessed that name last week. Try again.”

“Um…Luka.”

Quinn lowers his mouth to the side of her neck and nips gently. “ _Nyet_.” He runs his tongue over the love bite and she shivers with pleasure. “You will guess it soon.”

Faridah smiles. “Right. Kiss me; you’re Irish.”

“That I am, lass.” Quinn grins at her and moves to deliver the requested kiss, sighing against her lips when she works a hand between them to grip his cock. Faridah’s always enjoyed having a bit of fun through one or more layers of clothing – something about it always reminds her of the first eager fumblings of her youth, something forbidden and exciting…even when she knows full well what her partner looks (and feels) like without any clothing at all.

He ruts against her and she spreads her fingers wide to grasp him, giving her generous handful a squeeze that Quinn rolls his hips into. Faridah massages what she’s gripped to draw a few moans from his throat and then gives his balls a series of gentle slaps to make those moans grow even louder. “We have to be quiet, remember?” she murmurs, probing carefully until she locates his apadravya piercing again.

“I remember,” he promises, exhaling forcefully, "but you are teasing me.”

Faridah laughs. “Poor _you_.”

Quinn retaliates by propping himself up on one of his arms and using his free hand to grasp her shirt. “Is this your favorite?” he asks, starting to pull it away from her body.

“Don’t you dare – no, don’t!” she yells as Quinn exerts enough strength to make the fibers give an ominous popping noise.

He grins and pushes himself to a crouch, then yanks her shirt up and over her head. “You are forgetting the neighbors,” he chides, straddling her as he strips off his own shirt. 

Two can play at this game, Faridah decides, and unzips him the instant he twists to throw his shirt over on the table. “The neighbors,” she says, pulling his stiffened cock out, “can go fuck themselves.” Curling her fingers, she slowly pulls her hand up to the tip of him and thumbs the bottom barbell through the concealment of his foreskin. Quinn groans softly, leaning down to place his hands on either side of the bed and rocking his hips forward while she plays with him.

Faridah pumps slowly, loving the thick heft of him filling her hand. She presses her thighs together tightly at the knowledge that it’ll soon be filling the aching slit between her legs. It’s hard to be patient and explore as much as she wants, even if she knows they’ll have nothing but time to do this exact thing when they’re not fulfilling the goals of their mission. 

Quinn moves one of his hands to her breast, kneading it gently to make her nipple press up beneath the cup of her bra. His eyes flick to meet hers, then drop back down to what he’s doing while she continues to fondle him. Faridah sighs as Quinn’s fingers close around the hardened nub of her nipple, pinching lightly. “I want to take this off,” Quinn murmurs, his hand moving to her other breast.

“Then do it,” she says, stroking him slowly. “I didn’t ask before I took what I wanted.”

“That is because you have bad manners,” he points out.

Faridah laughs and releases him to sit up. Quinn stands to remove the rest of his clothing as she reaches back to pop the clasp of her bra, and Faridah admires the view when Quinn turns to drape his pants over the back of a nearby chair. “Nice ass, Fyodor.” Her eyes linger on the implant just above his tailbone; she can’t remember if he’d had the Icarus Landing System installed the last time they’d done this.

“Thank you,” he says, turning back around. “You think I look like a Fyodor?”

“Apparently not.” She crooks her finger at him and he puts a knee up on the mattress, pausing to admire the view as Faridah wriggles out of her pants. “Come _here_.”

Quinn obeys slowly, crawling up over her body. She slides her hands up his arms, meeting his gaze as he looks down at her. “ _Ty idealny_ ,” he murmurs, shifting so that he can rub the backs of his knuckles along her jaw. Faridah draws him back down to her and he goes unresisting. 

The time for laughter and teasing has passed. Their mouths meet in a hot, hungry kiss and Faridah clasps his bare body to hers. Quinn’s cock nudges at her pubis, the piercing catching on the thin fabric of her panties. He reaches down to remedy the situation and slips the crotch panel of her underwear aside before maneuvering so that the top of the barbell is in a spot that makes her a _very_ happy woman when he shifts slightly. “God, that’s so good…!”

He moves against her slowly, then faster as her excitement builds. The metal ball rubs over her clit and Faridah lifts herself into it, gasping into the curve of his neck at the first tingling flush of orgasm. Quinn continues his steady thrusts while her body quakes beneath his, her voice rising to a scream that she muffles against his skin. He eases up when her fingers begin to uncurl from his biceps and she sags back onto the bed. 

Quinn moves off to the side while Faridah catches her breath, and they kiss like they’ve got all the time in the world. She’s almost forgotten that sex could be like this, even with him; the last time they’d slept together neither of them were concerned about taking their time. There’d been too much pent-up lust for that…this time, they’re both armed with intimate knowledge of each other’s body. Not to mention the fact that they’ve grown close in other ways, as well. Faridah looks at Quinn as he props himself up on an elbow to run his gaze along her body, and smiles. They work well together, and play together even better.

He catches the smile and grins back, his laugh lines distorting the circular augment scar. “ _Na co myslíš?_ ”

It’s just like him to spring another Czech phrase on her when she’s least expecting it, and she has to stop to translate. “I’m thinking that we go together pretty well.” Faridah inhales sharply as he toys with one of her nipple piercings, tugging gently on the small metal hoop.

Quinn moves to lick at it, sucking it inside his mouth where he worries at it with his teeth until she’s grasping at his shoulders again. “We do,” he says, turning his attention to her other nipple. “I like these very much.” Faridah pets the back of his head, arching against his mouth and feeling herself grow wet again as he sucks harder.

She sighs, tightening her fingers in his hair as he curls his tongue around the piercing and tugs at it with just the right amount of pressure. “Lie down on your back.” Quinn comes up for air with a grin, and she grabs his ears to pull him in for another kiss before pushing him away. “ _Down_.”

He rolls onto his back obediently and she settles herself astride his body, leaning forward and reaching back. Faridah stares down at his face, watching his expression shift as she sets him at her entrance and begins to sink down. Quinn’s hands comes up to rest on her hips and he sucks his bottom lip past his teeth, his low groan reverberating through his chest. It’s better than she remembered, Faridah thinks, setting her hands on his biceps and pushing her hips down until she’s claimed every inch of that thick, pierced cock. 

Every shift, every _sigh_ sends delicious shudders through her body as she’s stretched around him. Quinn’s hands knead her thighs and ass, the movement causing her clit to nudge against his pubic bone in the most wonderful way. They rock together and Faridah moves her hands to Quinn’s chest, arching her back as he pushes her down against him so that their bodies connect with soft slaps. She can’t believe that it’s taken this long for them to realize that this was never meant to be a one-time thing. 

She can’t believe that _anything_ could ever feel so good.

Faridah rides him slowly, rolling her hips as she leans back to brace her hands on his legs. Quinn’s piercing rubs against her in continuous, undulating movement and she bites her lip as he places a hand on her abdomen and begins to massage her clit. “Oh, god-!” 

“Faridah,” Quinn sighs. He rubs harder, and it’s all she can do to stay upright. “ _Pridi, lyubov moya_.” He urges her down across his chest, capturing her mouth in a passionate kiss when she’s close enough for it, then clamps his arms over her back. Faridah grasps at him reflexively as Quinn shoves up inside her in a smooth, powerful movement of his hips. “Come for me, now.”

His cock fills her repeatedly, the friction making a whine start in the back of her throat before Faridah has to bury her face against his neck and scream out her pleasure. Her climax starts as a slight tingle through her limbs, rapidly developing into a feeling not unlike vertigo, until the full force of it hits her like a tidal wave that slams through her body. All she can do is hang on, hands opening and closing on Quinn’s shoulders helplessly as the spasms tighten her muscles. Quinn sheathes himself inside her a final time, holding her hips down as he comes with a long, drawn-out groan.

Faridah shivers at the feeling of his hands moving up and down her back. Despite the chill in the air, they’re both drenched in sweat and neither of them mind a bit. “Wow,” she sighs.

“Mm,” Quinn agrees lazily. “Are you comfortable?”

“I won’t be in a few minutes, but I’m good for now,” Faridah says, closing her eyes.

They separate after the ‘few minutes’ she’d warned him about are up and Quinn hands her a cloth so she doesn’t have to do the awkward waddling run to the bathroom that usually happens when a condom hasn’t been used. Speaking of that… “You _have_ had an injection recently, right?”

Quinn continues to wipe himself off, totally unselfconscious about it. “Of course. I got another just before we left.”

“Oh, yeah? You thought you’d get lucky, is that it?” Faridah laughs.

He laughs, too. “Hoping is not the same as knowing, yes?”

“That’s true,” she says, feeling her smile widen. She likes that Quinn doesn’t brag about her inevitable acceptance, because he surely _does_ know that she would have welcomed him again. “Come here.”

Faridah gets into the bed and holds the covers up in invitation, sighing with contentment as Quinn slides in with her. There’s a spot just above his left pectoral that’s perfect for her to rest her head on as she nestles against him. “I missed this, with you,” Quinn murmurs, moving his other arm up beneath his head.

“Me too, Bullseye.”

He _hmpph_ s softly. “That is…not my name.”

“It’s the one I gave you,” Faridah points out. “You said you’d tell me if I guessed it but unless I lock you in the bathroom and read that book of baby names from start to finish, you’ll have to keep the nickname forever.”

Quinn shifts and when she tilts her head up, he’s watching her. “I suppose it is not that bad. It came from you, after all.”

She rubs her hand over his stomach, feeling the roughened patches of the dermal armor catch her skin. “Maybe you could give me a hint?”

“I could…yet, I should not. I should not be with you like this. I should not _want_ to be with you like this,” he tells her, augment scar warping as the lines between his eyebrows deepen in a puzzled frown. “But I do.”

Faridah slips out from beneath his arm to move up beside Quinn, wanting to be able to really _look_ at him. There’s something tenuous about this moment and she needs to tread carefully – for her sake, as well as his. “I think,” she says slowly, “that we could use our time here to see just how well we really _do_ go together.” 

Quinn looks at her, and she can see the faint pulse behind the pale blue of his eyes that tells her that he’s using his behavioral mod. She’s always hated being manipulated but this time, just like the last time he’d used it on her, Faridah knows that all he’s searching for is reassurance. What he’ll find, if he’s smart enough to decipher it, are the clues that will tell him that while she doesn’t love him…she _could_. Very easily. 

“Bring your book.”


End file.
